


taken for the thrill

by freedomatsea



Series: dirty paws [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, werewolf!killian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 18:19:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freedomatsea/pseuds/freedomatsea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Werewolf!Killian/Emma PWP</p>
            </blockquote>





	taken for the thrill

**Author's Note:**

> This is werewolf!Killian however this is not connected to Screaming in the Dark in any way shape or form.

_And if the timing is right to sneak off into the night,_  
I'll let myself be taken just for the thrill.  
And if I'm given the chance to be a doll in his hands,  
I will be sure we shake the mountains while we dance

 

* * *

 

Insomnia was nothing new to Emma. It wasn’t the first time she’d laid awake with her legs tangled in her sheets from tossing and turning, trying to find some position that would lull her to sleep. But tonight her sleep wasn’t being lost to panicky thoughts about the future and past failures, tonight she found herself sleepless because her room was too hot. Even after she’d turned the fan on above her and watched as the blades spun around and around in the pale moonlight, the temperature hadn’t change. The cool night air making her curtains dance didn’t even bring with it a breath of relief for her.

She knew it wasn’t the room – it was her body.

But she had promised herself, that no matter how much she ached, no matter how much she _needed_ , she wouldn’t go back to him. She _had_ to break whatever the strange pull she had towards him was. It wasn’t natural, it wasn’t right. She shouldn’t want to be caught up with a man like him. A _monster_ like him. Even for a woman who was still overwhelmed by the fact that she was the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, craving sex with a man who could shift into a wolf was a little more than she could handle.

It wasn’t even the first time she’d found herself a slave to a sleepless night, burning from the inside out, with a desire that not even though most skilled attempts of her fingers could satisfy. But she would be damned if she went to him again.

Emma groaned as she rolled over onto her stomach, pressing her cheek against her pillow, training her eyes on the window across from her. As the curtains blew in the window, she could feel the air crossing the room, brushing over her bare skin, but the fire never stopped burning. No matter how cool the air felt, it couldn’t end her suffering.

She knew good and well that the smug bastard was sitting somewhere in the forest, with a proud smirk on his face, basking in the knowledge that she was burning for him. That all she could do was lay there think of _him_ , wishing that he was there to end her torment.

Emma clenched her eyes closed, vividly seeing him there in the darkness behind her lids. Impossibly blue eyes that she swore could see into her soul. Eyes that could turn almost black when they were both consumed with lust and he was ripping her clothes off.

“ _Killian_.” She couldn’t control herself any longer – she _needed_ some sort of relief. Emma slid her hand beneath her, slipping beneath the waistband of her underwear. Her fingers were smoother than his would be, his fingers were rough, calloused, _thick_. She pushed herself up on her other elbow, her knees pressing into the mattress as her fingers moved between her thighs. She could imagine that dark, throaty chuckle of his – the way his eyes would glint when he found that she was slick and painfully needy.

He had a filthy mouth on him. He liked hearing himself talk, detailing exactly how he’d fuck her and she would scream and beg for more. He had never been _wrong_ about any of that.

Emma bit her lip hard as she thrust two fingers into herself, wasting little time with trying to push herself over the edge. It had _never_ worked before in the past, not when it got like this – not after he had come into her life. She could tremble and keen and burn, but the relief never came, not until she was with him. Not until he was doing this job, with his mouth, his fingers, his cock.

She cried out, perhaps a little _too_ loud, caught up the visions of all the vast variety of things he had done to her. Loud enough that she wasn’t surprised when she heard the scuffle of feet outside her door and a quick urgent knock.

“Emma sweetie, are you alright?” Mary Margaret called out, before she pushed the door open. One day the woman would learn that you’re supposed to wait for a reply before you barge into a closed bedroom.

 “I’m fine.” Emma said hoarsely, pulling her hand out of her underwear as she rolled over and tugged at her sheets, hoping that her mother hadn’t noticed. “Nightmare.” She gave as a lame excuse.

“It’s freezing in here, aren’t you cold?” She questioned, moving across the room to shut the window, glancing back at Emma. “Are you sick sweetie?”

“I’m fine.” She insisted again, curling her legs in front of her as she rolled over. “Go back to bed.”

“Are you sure?”

“ _Yes_.” Emma snapped, throwing her covers off of herself. “I’m going to take a walk.” She needed to clear her head and calm down.

“This late at night?” Mary Margaret crossed her arms across her chest as she watched her daughter pull on pair of jeans with her wrinkled sleep shirt. “Emma, how about we go down to the kitchen and make a cup of cocoa – we can talk about whatever nightmare you had.”

The mothering thing was something Emma could only tolerate for so long and right now mothering was _not_ what she needed. “I’ll be back in an hour or so.” She said briskly, brushing past her as she headed towards the door.

“Just be careful.”

“Will do.” Emma retorted over her shoulder as she grabbed her car keys off the table by the door and headed out into the stairwell. She was going to go do exactly what she had sworn to herself that she wouldn’t do again. She _needed_ him and she wasn’t going to rest again until she had what she wanted.

* * *

“Well, well, _well_. Look who came for a visit.”

Emma stiffened, her eyes darting around the dark forest before her, trying to search out his figure in the pale blue light of the moon above. She glanced to her left, catching movement out of the corner of her eye – but then there was movement to her right, the sound of leaves rustling.

“You really should be more aware of your surroundings love. Innocent thing like you, smelling the way you do right now….alone, in the forest. So late at night.”

She swore he could make her come undone with his voice alone. There was something about the way he spoke, the drawl of his accent, the way he sounded like he could fuck her with his words alone was a deadly combination.

“Where the hell are you Killian?” She gritted out, glancing to her right, catching sight of something again, only to find nothing. “This isn’t funny.”

“I find it _quite_ hilarious, lass.” Killian retorted, suddenly making himself known behind her, his strong hands curling around her hips. His lips were against the shell of her ear, his hot breath dancing over her skin, making her tremble in his hold.

“ _Killian_.” Her breath caught in the back of her throat and she leaned back against him. There was something strangely comforting in the way it felt to have such a solid mass of muscle and power pressed up against her.

“I’m right here love.” He assured her, his teeth catching her earlobe between them, tugging at it with surprising gentleness. “But you should have been here a _very_ long time ago.” Killian brushed his lips along the curve of her throat as his hands slid around to work her jeans open, roughly shoving them and her underwear down her hips. “Did you try to get yourself off, lass?” He questioned and she nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Emma’s heart raced faster, “Ki-”

“ _Shhh_.” Killian urged her, his fingers curling around her wrist as he lifted her hand to his lips, wrapping them around the two digits that she’d had buried in herself barely an hour ago. His tongue swirled around her fingers, tasting her desire for him.

Emma groaned as he released her hand, letting it drop back to her side. “I thought I could.” She whispered, her voice wavering as she spoke.

Killian chuckled in response to her words, his hand sliding between her thighs, his fingers stroking over her slick flesh, “We both know you weren’t going to get off by finger fucking yourself, Swan.” He smirked as he pressed a single digit into her, earning a cry from her as she pressed back against him, her hips rocking forward for more. “I don’t even think _this_ is what you need anymore.”

This was what she had been imagining as she laid in her bed – his rough fingers, slick with her need, working in and out of her as he taunted her into a state of delirium. “ _Fuck_.” She hissed out, his thumb barely brushing over her throbbing clit, making her legs go weak beneath her.

“ _That_ is what you need.” He whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “What would the town say if they knew their _beloved_ Sheriff was off having a fuck with someone like _me_?” He pressed a second digit into her and she was ever thankful that he had a firm hold on her hip, because that was the only thing keeping her upright.

“What do you want Emma?” Killian questioned, his breath dancing over her skin as she spoke, the rough bristles of his beard scraping against her skin. “I can feel you quivering around my fingers, trying so _hard_ to find your release.” His fingers twisted in and out of her, pressing against that sweet spot within her, teasing her with the promise of a release that wasn’t coming.

“ _Killian_.” She whispered hoarsely, her voice wavering even with just one single word. “Please.”

“Please _what_?” Killian growled, his fingers working in and out of her faster. Under a normal situation she’d already be gone, her release crashing over her, flooded with pleasure – but _this_ , she swore, was a new brand form of torture. “Tell me what you want Emma. I can’t give you anything unless I know what you want.”

“You.” She groaned, arching back, grinding against him. “Fuck _me_.”

That was all he needed to hear. With very little warning he jerked his fingers from her, shoving her to the ground. She had to admit – she loved it rough. And it was _always_ rough with him. He manhandled her, treating her like she wasn’t something that could be broken and she _craved_ that.

Emma pressed her palms against the ground beneath her, relishing the twinge of pain as the leaves and twigs dug into her skin, leaving marks and scrapes she’d bear tomorrow. She didn’t know how she’d explain it to her mother – going out late at night and coming back with half a forest tangled in her hair, dirt stained fingernails, and torn up palms. But that was tomorrow and this was now.

His hands curled around her hips once more, his hold rough and possessive. She’d have bruises tomorrow, little dark imprints of his fingers. They would be a reminder of where she belonged. After tonight, caving into her darkest desires – the ones that weren’t just about the sex, about the heightened sensations, about the danger she felt with him. It was so much _more_ than any of that.

But he wasn’t done teasing yet. He was _never_ done finding some new way to torture her. Emma’s head fell forward, her vision going hazy at the edges, a moan passing her lips as she felt his cock slide again slick folds. Her head was reeling, any sensible thoughts fading away and giving way to nothing but pure need. “ _Killian_.”

He pulled away, long enough to make her rock back, before he had the head of his cock pressed against her entrance, holding her hips to keep her from moving. He was giving neither of them what they truly wanted. “Tell me what you want” He growled out, his words low, rough, pure desire. “Tell me you want me to fuck you. Come on Emma.”

“I want _you_.” That wasn’t what he wanted to hear – it wasn’t dirty, filthy, explicit – it was simple and said so much more about _them_ and not just what she wanted right then.

He held her hip tightly as he thrust forward, filling her completely before he pulled out abruptly, only to slam into her again. She couldn’t tell if his rough movements were spurred on by her words or the need they both shared. His rhythm allowed him _hard_ , deep thrusts – hitting that sweet spot within her with every forward motion, her body shuddering around his thick length every time he bottomed out.

Despite his hard, powerful movements, his fingers stroked her hip with surprising tenderness. It was almost _too_ much for her and she fought to hold back the release that threatened to wash over her. The build-up of the evening threatening to destroy what little ounce of self-control she still had.

And damn him if he knew how close she was to teetering over the edge. His hand slipped down beneath him, rolling that little bundle of nerves between his thumb and forefinger. That was all it took.

She cried out, bucking back against him. His name fell from her lips again and again, waves of pleasure washing over her. She dug her nails into the earth beneath her, seeking purchase as her release ripped through her.

His movements were jerky, his rhythm almost lost as her muscles tightened around him. With one final thrust, his release hit and he slumped forward against her back. Killian’s breath was uneven, shaky, and hot as it danced over the back of her neck.

Her legs gave out beneath her causing them both to collapse to the ground, a mess of tangled, sweat covered limbs. Emma wiggled turning over in his strong embrace, so she could face him, an exhausted smile creasing the corners of her lips. “Damn you’re good.” She said with a soft laugh, before leaning forward to kiss him. Kissing was such an intimate action, something that she shouldn’t have _missed_ during sex – but she _had_.

She groaned softly against his lips, her fingers winding through his thick black hair, savoring the way his mouth tasted as she deepened the kiss. There was no coming back from this – from him, from whatever it was within her that called out to him.

Killian broke from the kiss, his eyes still half-lidded, panting slightly as he tried to catch his breath. “You should go home, it’ll be morning soon.” He warned, tangling his fingers in her hair.

“Come back with me.” Emma whispered, brushing her lips over his again. “I don’t want to go home alone.” Her eyes searched his, looking for any signs that said she’d overstepped a boundary. If he had said that to _her_ – it might have been too much. But the power was in her hands, she wanted him there with her.

“What will you tell your _mum_ in the morning?” He questioned, picking a twig out of her hair. “Got lost and came home with a stranger?” But a smile twisted his lips, his brows rising in upwards in surprise at her words.

“I don’t care. I don’t want to sleep alone.” Emma traced her thumb over the curve of his cheek, her brows knitting together. “Every time I’ve run away from something that I was _supposed_ to do, it blew up in my face. Tonight proved that this – _us_ – is just like those. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Killian grinned at her and he kissed her, his lips slanting over hers as he enjoyed it for a brief moment longer. “Good things always come with the new moon.” He said, cupping her cheek. “Come on, let’s get going before it’s _too_ late.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

Finally she’d met her match and maybe being in love with a werewolf, was easier to deal with than being the Savior of town full of fairytale characters.

 

 


End file.
